In the interests of variety, good gardening and, to an extent I suppose, the local economy, I’m in the process of having some work done on my garden. I don’t envy the young men doing the job but I’m thankful it ain’t me! There was rain last night, and this morning they are faced with water at the bottom of the hole – the “hole” being a new pond, the old one having been emptied yesterday and filled in. The operation to transfer the fish, wildlife and, of course, Froggy,
went smoothly enough although I preferred not to watch. Severe guilt has set in at my decision to destroy their long held domicile, even though a better one is in prospect. I imagine them to be at the very least unsettled, since I anthropomorphise all things “wildlife”.
Perhaps I should make a speech in political vein and in
the style of “jam tomorrow” or “this hurts me more than it hurts you.” I am inclined to believe such empty rhetoric would fall on deaf ears, much as it does in the human world, for I still have my home and all things familiar around me; no one has yet ‘hoiked’ me out of it, imprisoned me in a blue plastic container and bull-dozed all that I hold dear. My hope is that the old tale of fish having a short memory is true because if they do harbour a grudge then I’m really in for some stick!
But I digress – for while all this mayhem continues in the main body of the garden, the remainder labours on with the business of living. The birds dodge in and out of the way of the work and the plants accept the rain and benignly await a return to quieter times – don’t we all?
In the interests of variety, good gardening and, to an extent I suppose, the local economy, I’m in the process of having some work done on my garden. I don’t envy the young men doing the job but I’m thankful it ain’t me! There was rain last night, and this morning they are faced with water at the bottom of the hole – the “hole” being a new pond, the old one having been emptied yesterday and filled in. The operation to transfer the fish, wildlife and, of course, Froggy, 
went smoothly enough although I preferred not to watch. Severe guilt has set in at my decision to destroy their long held domicile, even though a better one is in prospect. I imagine them to be at the very least unsettled, since I anthropomorphise all things “wildlife”. 
Perhaps I should make a speech in political vein and in 
the style of “jam tomorrow” or “this hurts me more than it hurts you.” I am inclined to believe such empty rhetoric would fall on deaf ears, much as it does in the human world, for I still have my home and all things familiar around me; no one has yet ‘hoiked’ me out of it, imprisoned me in a blue plastic container and bull-dozed all that I hold dear. My hope is that the old tale of fish having a short memory is true because if they do harbour a grudge then I’m really in for some stick!
But I digress – for while all this mayhem continues in the main body of the garden, the remainder labours on with the business of living. The birds dodge in and out of the way of the work and the plants accept the rain and benignly await a return to quieter times – don’t we all?
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